Special correspondent of "Russkaya Germania" got an assignment to earn some extra cash.
"Intentions are pure as mountain air..." — it is this advertising slogan of a domestic company that once deceived tens of thousands of its compatriots that you recall every time you start talking to an employer who allegedly is ready to offer you a decent side job. You will say: why don't you, my dear, chase after illicit income, but live like the silent majority — on social welfare. To which I will answer: even Germans, who earn on average more than our brethren, do not disdain all kinds of odd jobs. You see, they, the natives, want to save up some money to go to the Canaries and the Maldives, and to buy new household utensils, in conditions of poor economic climate. Well, as for us, as they say, God himself ordered us to work on the side: so that if not to fly to the Canaries, then at least to ride a scheduled bus to our native Uryupinsk. Or, at worst, to stash away some cabbage for purchasing furniture in the chain of luxurious supermarkets "Caritas"...
The problem, really, is one: those who are ready to offer the Russian-speaking public an easy side job often suffer from a kind of chronic dishonesty. In other words, they often simply profit from our confidence that we have ended up in a civilized country populated exclusively by merchants and employers who would rather shoot themselves than not pay wages to their hireling. Aha, as they say in Germany, — denkste!
"We offer packaging of razor blades!"
In the days when I was still on social benefits and diligently searching for a side job via the Internet, I was somewhat surprised by the harsh reaction of regulars of a certain nice Internet community to a question I myself had asked: "Guys, do you know any simple work? For example, assembling pens at home or packaging razor blades into boxes?" Judging by what they answered me, angrily and ironically, I (only later) realized that most of my opponents had already long and "successfully" burned their fingers on such business. But at that time I just sullenly bristled and began to look for such work myself. I didn't earn any money, I'll say right away, but I did gain impressions, it seems, for the rest of my life. However, everything in due course...
The first to try to cure me of the eternal emigrant blues, also called the financial-sexual crisis, was a former (alas!) friend. "Don't take those Internet people to heart, to hell with them!" declared Gurgen, maniacally waving a sharp Santos razor blade under my nose. "Here I have such a job. I myself always pack blades, my wife bakes lavash — and packs, my daughter does homework — and packs. Soon I'll even get the cat involved in this business, dear!" In short, guided by the principle "a friend won't advise anything bad", I bought from Gurgen himself blades, boxes and labels (which I was supposed to stick on the products) for two hundred euros and set about this manual labor.
The net result of this occupation was only a parcel with sorted products, sent to the company address indicated by my friend and returned to me with the postal note "addressee not reachable", and the final rupture of what had seemed an unbreakable friendship with the "good adviser".
Later, when I set out to study the blade-and-pen phenomenon, I found out what had prompted the hot-blooded southerner to set me up with such a dirty trick. It turned out that he himself had initially invested quite substantial sums in this mechanism. He invested himself, and got burned himself, but — he received a proposal from the "employer": you recruit new neophytes for the home assembly line, and we pay you a small compensation for that. This compensation turned out to be the price of "strong friendship".
Become an alcoholic for free at your own expense
Another casual acquaintance of mine also fell into the trap of home production, advertised by a cunning employer as "an opportunity to earn money without leaving the kitchen table." However, unlike the aforementioned Gurgen, this guy, once a cheerful native of Ukraine, didn't screw anyone over, but... quietly drank himself into alcoholism.
This is how it happened. The sufferer, having found a "gold mine", went into debt to friends and bought beer concentrate for 1,500 euros from a company. According to the instructions received (for 4.99 euros), this concentrate had to be thoroughly stirred, bringing it to the state of the people's favorite drink. And after stirring, bottle it and get ready on a certain day for the arrival of a courier who was supposed to take this masterpiece of brewing art, immediately paying cash for it.
It probably goes without saying that on the appointed day no one came for the home-brewed beer, bottled in moonshine containers and stored in the basement. The newly minted brewer had only one thing left: to drown his sorrow in the product he had made himself. And he drank himself to a state of severe beer alcoholism, which local doctors now treat as diligently as unsuccessfully.
I will also mention here another phenomenon from the same, generally speaking, series. Having been burned by razor blades and been glad that my lot was exactly those, and not beer, I read with caution a very amusing German-language ad in the local German-language newspaper: "We need 300 Russian-speaking employees." A certain Mohammad Dost answered my phone call, who immediately assured me that in such a community I would not have to defend Thermopylae, nor participate in a film mass scene of the storming of the Winter Palace. No, no, everything was much simpler: I was to get from this same Dost genuine Persian carpets and sell them freely to my own compatriots. The catch was one thing: this type of product also had to be paid for in advance at a ridiculous price, and then profit from "wakh, good carpets!" in accordance with one's own ideas about business.
What could I answer such an employer? Only the classic: "No, you will never get this from me, citizen Gadyukin!"
And you really can earn money...
However, all these blade-laying, beer-stirring and other carpet-selling jobs are toys from a simple arsenal designed primarily for simpletons. The more cunning "employers" deal with our fellow men (and our fellow women) on the principle of... mimicry. In other words, they parasitize on genuinely existing and well-paid jobs by disguising themselves as solid professionals. What's more, they read the press carefully and pick up the latest trends in public sentiment. So as not to be unfounded, I will give, a little later, specific examples that I have tested in practice with my own and my acquaintances' experience. But for now, answer one question.
How about, for instance, such gigs as posing and testing perfume? A reader who has familiarized himself with all the various traps described in the previous chapter will likely exclaim: "That's all a rip-off, brother! Pure nonsense, for real!" And he will be, like the famous historical character, fundamentally wrong. The philistine, Soviet-era notions of how models actually earn money, and that it is simply impossible to earn money while enjoying the delicate scent of expensive perfume, do not work in Germany.
An example from family practice. Walking past a hair salon, my wife and I saw a notice in the window that models were needed here. We went in, got talking, and soon our 12-year-old daughter was sitting in the chair while the hands of a young trainee hairdresser, who needed practice, fluttered above her. Then a local photographer "clicked" the child, and in the end we left the establishment in high spirits: our daughter got a "cool" hairstyle, as she put it, for free, and our family budget received an addition of 25 euros.
You can see the results of one of our acquaintances working as a model - more precisely, as an artist's model - right before you. The girl, again by chance, was passing by a photo studio and, seeing a notice that a model was needed, did not hesitate to go in. Indeed, the girl's face after such posing will not become world-famous: the company was simply producing a calendar with unusual zodiac signs, and for that it needed a woman with a beautiful bust. However, just one hour of posing - by the way, without any intimate advances from the local artists - enriched our acquaintance by 50 euros. Not bad, is it?
Finally, about the proverbial testing as well: the wife of the author of this article, finding herself at a presentation of a new cosmetics line by a well-known company, decided to become one of the guinea pigs who were to rate several types of perfume on a six-point scale. This simple exercise, whose only drawback was the allergy-induced sneeze that followed, brought in as much as 65 euros and, "gratis," a set of perfume samples. But now for what we started this story about models and testers with. That is, about the less cheerful side...
Confessions of an International Model and a Top Tester
Swindlers are perfectly aware that such easy side jobs are in demand, and they skillfully seize the right moment to dupe the gullible. What kind of moment is that? Well, here you are. As soon as April 1, 2003, the lower earnings limit rose from 325 to 400 euros, local newspapers and magazines were flooded with articles about how you could earn extra money easily and effortlessly.
Among others, a respected publication with a readership of millions urged readers to model to their heart's content and to test everything: from perfumes to the latest computers and gynecological chairs. Without meaning to, journalists made advertising for the swindlers, who had cleverly mimicked at the right moment: immediately, sensing the excited demand that had gripped society, all sorts of "employers" began offering work specifically for testers and photo models. Hundreds of people fell for the ads, unwittingly projecting their trust in the respected publication onto the openly fraudulent advertisements. What came of it? Here are just two stories told to the author by poor souls from the Russian-speaking community.
Liliya M., 21, a would-be photo model: "I fell for an ad from some producers who promised me participation in ethnic fashion shows. The initial testing of my appearance was free. Then I received a letter saying that I had passed the selection and could break into the international modeling business, but for that a promotional video was required. They filmed me with a home video camera for about 10-12 minutes and kept insisting that Slavic models are all the rage around the world now. In the end, as if in a dream, I signed some contract, and two days later I received a bill for the services rendered in the amount of 450 euros. Naturally, no trip to Nice, which they had promised me verbally, ever took place."
Viktor K., 20 years old, would-be tester of a new computer model: “In one German newspaper I read that a certain company needed all sorts of testers - from testers of new car models to specialists capable of dealing with the latest computer technology. 'They won't fool me, who has been working with hardware since I was 14,' I decided and called the phone number given. What struck me: after brief questioning, I was indeed connected to a specialist! Our conversation lasted about 15 minutes, and as a result I understood that the developers of the latest technology have real problems which they offered me to evaluate from a user's point of view for good money. I repeat: the specialist who spoke with me was a class above me, constantly spouting specialized terms. So by the time they asked me to transfer a deposit to some account for a computer that allegedly existed in only three copies, I was sure: I was dealing not with fraudsters but with colleagues. And I understood the guru's concern about the possible condition of the unique equipment entrusted to God knows whom. Well, I transferred 1,500 euros to the innovators as a deposit and went to another city to the appointed address - in order to work some magic on the hardware in the laboratory and, from the standpoint of an ordinary consumer, give the creators my opinion of the new product. A terrible disappointment awaited me: at the indicated address a sex shop was operating normally, at whose doors had gathered about a dozen bewildered bespectacled fellows like me - two Russians, an Asian, Germans. All of us were shamelessly deceived. And when we tried to call the company at the mobile number, it turned out the phone was disconnected.”
So there. Think for yourselves, decide for yourselves - whether to take on side jobs or not. And don't be upset if, after reading the article, you have lost some illusions. In any case, from now on it will be harder for all those companies offering unconventional home-based and other earnings to catch you out. Well, to those whom I have offended among those who so vigorously promote all sorts of 'assembling', 'testing', 'mixing drinks' and so on, I propose an honest experiment: if you, dear sirs, allow us this time to really test nothing other than your activity, while proving the actual purity of your intentions, we will definitely write a separate article about such a positive phenomenon. And even provide the details of it for free.